From Fetch to Feast? 'Dog Meat' Stall Shocks Bristol.'
They're Grrrr-illing Up Something Different: Vegan Group's Shock Tactics Hit Broadmead. Corgi Legs on Special!
Oh, the drama! One can just picture the poor souls of Bristol, clutching their avocado toast and oat milk lattes, suddenly confronted with the barbaric notion of... checks notes ...Pug bacon. The horror! Clearly, their delicate sensibilities, so finely tuned to the suffering of ethically sourced kale, were utterly shattered by this affront to their Western sensibilities.
And the offerings! Corgi legs for a fiver? One can only imagine the discerning gourmand, perhaps a connoisseur of artisanal sourdough, pondering the meat-to-bone ratio of such an… unconventional cut. A whole Chihuahua for £24? Bargain! Though one might need a magnifying glass to locate the actual edible portion – perfect for those trendy micro-barbecues, I suppose, where presentation trumps actual sustenance.
Our shocked shopper, bless her cotton socks and her ingrained cultural norms, was "disgusted." One can almost hear the tut-tutting echoing across Broadmead, a symphony of middle-class outrage. "How is this even allowed in Bristol city centre?" she wailed, presumably while stepping over discarded Pret a Manger wrappers and dodging rogue e-scooters – oblivious to the daily indignities of urban life but utterly floored by the suggestion of canine cuisine. The irony, it seems, was lost amidst the outrage, much like flavour in a vegan haggis.
Ah, but fear not, for it was all a cunning ruse by those oh-so-subtle vegans, those masters of the guilt trip. Elwood's Organic Dog Meat, a name that just rolls off the tongue with an air of wholesome, cruelty-free butchery (ahem), turns out to be a front for their agenda. The ethical hypocrisy! Imagine being appalled by the thought of a Sunday roast Rover, yet perfectly content with a bit of lamb, blissfully unaware that in other, less enlightened corners of the globe, a bit of lamb might be just as ethically dubious as a bit of Labrador. The cognitive dissonance, much like the flavour in vegan cheese, is truly staggering.
Their website, a veritable treasure trove of guilt-tripping rhetoric, poses the profound question: "Why do you feel one way about dogs and another way about pigs, an animal that is actually smarter than a dog?" Well, perhaps because one slobbers affectionately on your lap and the other provides delicious rashers? Just a thought, from someone who hasn't yet embraced the joy of tofu that tastes suspiciously like despair.
And our enlightened shopper, after her deep dive into the cerebral capacity of cows (one hopes she didn't strain herself), conceded that they made a "clever-if-disgusting” point. One can almost see the gears slowly turning as she wrestled with the earth-shattering revelation that perhaps, just perhaps, all creatures great and small might have some intrinsic value… unless, of course, they happen to be delicious with a bit of rosemary. Bless her heart for even considering such a radical notion.
Last year, it was tofu. This year, the phantom aroma of Pug bacon. One shudders to think what culinary abomination these vegan agitators will unleash upon the unsuspecting shoppers of Broadmead next. Perhaps sustainably-sourced badger burgers? Or maybe free-range squirrel sausages, served with a side of sanctimony? The possibilities for triggering the delicate palates of Bristolians, so accustomed to their ethically sourced, yet somehow bland, diets, are truly endless.
Personally speaking, while a well-marbled Rottweiler might indeed see one through a week (and likely deter any unwanted visitors), the sheer logistics of fitting it on the barbecue seem problematic. And the thought of de-boning a Saint Bernard? One would need a team of Sherpas and a very large carving knife – hardly conducive to a spontaneous Bank Holiday grill-up. Perhaps I'll stick to a nice, ethically ambiguous steak, preferably from a cow that lived a short but presumably delicious life. After all, some of us have actual appetites, darling, untroubled by such… first-world problems.
Imagine, if you will, a world beyond the quaint cobblestone streets of Bristol, a world where the idea of "Pug bacon" doesn't send shivers of disgust down one's ethically-sourced spine. In certain… gasp …other cultures, the concept of a dog gracing the dinner table is about as shocking as, well, finding a Greggs on every corner – and arguably, a more flavourful proposition.
Picture bustling markets, not unlike St. Nicholas Market, but dare I say, less concerned with organic kombucha and more inclined towards… shall we say… freshly prepared terrier skewers, sizzling alongside the fragrant spices that actually add flavour, unlike the bland herbs favoured by the ethically righteous. One can almost hear the sizzle of a lovingly marinated Labrador chop on an open grill, the aroma mingling with the exotic scents of a world where culinary boundaries extend beyond the predictable parameters of quinoa and kale.
Envision families gathering for a Sunday roast, the centerpiece not a locally sourced organic chicken (so virtuous, so bland), but a beautifully braised Beagle, perhaps stuffed with fragrant herbs that actually enhance the flavour, served with a side of… clutches chest …Cocker Spaniel crackling – a textural delight unheard of in the world of vegan "crisps." The horror! The sheer barbarity! One can only imagine the tut-tutting reaching fever pitch in the cafes of Clifton, drowning out the gentle hum of self-satisfaction.
And let's not forget the delicacies! Forget your fancy charcuterie boards laden with overpriced olives and sun-dried tomatoes; imagine platters adorned with thinly sliced Dachshund prosciutto, or perhaps a delicate pâté crafted from the finest Poodles – a culinary adventure far beyond the predictable hummus and carrot sticks. Think of the adventurous foodie, not Instagramming their avocado on toast with its predictable filter, but instead, proudly displaying their perfectly grilled Pomeranian ribs, a testament to a palate unafraid of the culturally unconventional. The utter savagery! Or, dare I say, culinary curiosity?
Our Bristolian shopper, so aghast at the mere suggestion of Elwood's offerings, would likely faint at the sight of a genuine dog meat market, the sheer uncivilised nature of it all! How could anyone possibly stomach such a thing? It's enough to make one reach for a comforting cup of fair-trade tea and a vegan sausage roll (tasting faintly of regret), just to banish the gruesome images of a world where "locally loved" might have a rather different meaning.
The vegans, with their not-so-subtle campaign, are merely scratching the surface of this global culinary divide, blissfully unaware that their "shocking" display is merely Tuesday in certain other parts of the world. While Bristolians recoil in horror at the thought of a Chihuahua casserole, elsewhere, it might be considered a perfectly acceptable, even celebratory, dish – perhaps even tastier than the lentil shepherd's pie they'll be having for dinner. The ethical hypocrisy they point out suddenly takes on a whole new, stomach-churning dimension, doesn't it? It's not just about cows and pigs anymore; it's about confronting the deeply ingrained cultural biases that dictate what we deem "food" and what we consider a beloved companion – a distinction that, apparently, isn't universally shared.
So, the next time you stroll through Broadmead, perhaps with a falafel wrap in hand (wondering, not for the first time, what it's actually made of), spare a thought for those far-flung lands where a "locally loved" Labrador might indeed end up on the barbecue, seasoned with spices that would make a Bristolian's eyes water. And maybe, just maybe, the Elwood's Organic Dog Meat stall won't seem quite so shocking after all. Or perhaps it will be even more horrifying, a stark reminder that one person's beloved pet is another's… well, you get the picture. The choice, dear reader, is yours to stew over, preferably with a nice, ethically sourced gravy. Or not.
